


As true as Joe's love for Nicky and Nicky's love for Joe

by BazinMousqueton



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, If you're willing to suspend disbelief on the whole Robin Hood thing, M/M, Minor Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Nicky | Nicolò de Genova cannot resist a bet, POV Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Robin Hood is a himbo, The Sheriff of Nottingham's men are only a threat to themselves, The mildest of mild peril, historical accuracy? i don't know her, the most established of established relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29697351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BazinMousqueton/pseuds/BazinMousqueton
Summary: Joe, Nicky, Andy and Quỳnh enter the Sheriff of Nottingham's archery competition to win a golden arrow and, more importantly, a bet. They're not the only people determined to win: Robin Hood defies the Sheriff to be there and hijinks ensue.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 22
Kudos: 68





	As true as Joe's love for Nicky and Nicky's love for Joe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [krimsnkrams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/krimsnkrams/gifts).



> Inspired by Krimsnkrams' [gorgeous archery fanart](https://krimsnkramsart.tumblr.com/post/643124440471912448).
> 
> The Robin Hood I'm picturing is [Michael Praed in Robin of Sherwood](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8jmZ77-bvw). Definitely a himbo!

"The armourer tells me there's a local myth," Joe said, heaving the basket onto the table. "A hooded man, giving gifts to those in need. Remind you of anyone we know?" 

The basket clinked as its contents settled. Joe flexed his aching fingers. Nicky -- the hood he loved to wear hanging by the door -- reached for Joe's hands and caressed each finger in turn, pressing hard enough to soothe. "What gift do you need, my love?"

Joe closed his eyes and breathed in. Nicky smelt of wheat; he must have been to the mill while Joe visited the armourer. Joe freed his right hand to cup Nicky's jaw, feeling the slide of flour dust against clean-shaven skin. He leaned across for a kiss.

The door opened and slammed shut. Damp air gusted across the room and hit the back of Joe's neck. He froze, his lips parted and an inch from Nicky's, and turned to glare.

"Did you get them?" asked Andy, slipping out from under the cloak she and Quỳnh had been sharing.

"It's raining again?" Nicky asked her.

Quỳnh shook out her hair, scattering raindrops across the flagstone floor, and hung up the cloak. "It's autumn in England. Of course it's raining. Joe? Did you get them?"

Joe gestured towards the basket. They'd left their last job in something of a hurry, pockets full of money but chain mail abandoned in a house that was no longer safe. They needed armour more than cash for their next job, so they'd stopped in this unfamiliar town to get re-outfitted. 

Quỳnh lifted a mail coat from the basket, cooing her appreciation. She shook the coat, making it jangle. Light glittered on the steel rings. "Shiny."

"A bitch to look after in this climate," said Andy, pulling an apple from her bag and polishing it on her tunic. 

Quỳnh sighed. "Daily rust checks. Regular oiling." 

"There's lamp oil in the basket," said Joe. Nicky looked up in interest. It had been months since they'd last found somewhere that sold olive oil. Joe gave him an apologetic glance. "It's some sort of fish oil."

Nicky grimaced. 

"Stinky," said Quỳnh. "I propose a contest -- Andy and me against the two of you. Losers care for the mail."

"We're in," Nicky said, before Joe could urge caution. "Wrestling or cards?"

Andy bit into her apple and spoke with her mouth full. "Archery. There's a competition at the castle on Saturday."

Joe threw his head back and laughed. His beloved had walked straight into Quỳnh's trap, as always. Nicky shot him a mock-hurt look. "Do you doubt my skill?"

"Never, oh light of my life. Merely your wisdom in pitting yourself against Quỳnh's greater experience."

Nicky scoffed. "Experience isn't everything."

Quỳnh and Andy shared a smile.

"Experience is most things," said Quỳnh.

"Don't listen to her," said Nicky, turning Joe to face him, his hands warm on Joe's shoulders. "I will win. It will be my gift to you."

# # #

Joe made his way across Nottingham Castle's outer court, weaving through the noisy crowd. He zig-zagged to avoid a boy carrying a tray of pies and almost collided with three young women in wimples. His bowed apology sent them into a fit of giggles and he winked before turning away. 

He paused by a souvenir-seller hawking arrows fletched and crested to match the livery of the noble contestants. He recognised most of the colour combinations -- only Guy of Gisburne was likely to be any challenge to Quỳnh and Nicky -- but wondered who wore Lincoln green. The colour was selling fast.

The qualifying rounds passed quickly. Joe was knocked out in the second round; Andy made it to the semi-finals; Nicky and Quỳnh sailed into the finals neck-and-neck on points.

"I could have reached the final if I'd wanted," Andy said, handing Joe an apple as she watched Quỳnh warming up. Her gaze followed the line of Quỳnh's scissoring arms.

"We both could," Joe said, only stretching the truth a little. "Watching is more fun." Nicky dropped to the ground and started doing slow press ups. Sweat soaked the back of his blue tunic, making it cling to his shoulders. Joe realised his mouth was open and snapped it shut.

Andy laughed at him. 

A shadow fell across them. Joe checked the sky, watching fluffy white clouds scudding across the sun and praying the day stayed fine. Rain would give an advantage to Quỳnh; to Nicky's frustration a sodden bowstring robbed him of a fraction of his accuracy.

Andy followed his upwards glance. "Quỳnh doesn't need rain to beat Nicky."

"Nicky's form has been flawless all day."

"You sure it's his form you've been watching?"

"His ass is flawless too." Andy elbowed him. He grinned. " _What?_ It's merely a statement of fact." 

"You're not the only one who's noticed. Two shillings says the blonde in the fancy embroidery throws herself at him after the contest."

"No bet."

"Let's hope she doesn't have an over-protective husband. I don't fancy being run out of town again."

Joe bit into his apple. "Maybe you should stop scrumping apples then, or it'll be the orchard-mistress who chases us."

Andy elbowed him again, before leaning forward and shifting her focus: the final had started. The butt had been moved back twenty paces since the semi-final. Nicky shot first, calmly placing his first five arrows in the gold bullseye. Joe -- and the blonde in the fancy embroidery -- cheered loudly as each one thunked into the target. Nicky nocked, drew and released his last arrow. Joe held his breath.

It landed in the red.

Nicky swore, palming his face with his right hand. Andy smiled, raising her eyebrows at Joe. He put his hand on his hip, knowing Nicky had lost but not willing to admit it. "All six in the gold, at that distance? Quỳnh won't do it either."

"Quỳnh could do it blindfold."

Guy of Gisburne shot fifth, clustering three arrows in the gold and three in the red then arguing the sun had blinded him. The contest judge waved him away. Gisburne hurled his bow to the ground, to jeers from the crowd, and stormed off.

After ten contestants, Nicky remained in the lead. 

Quỳnh strolled to the line, blew a kiss to Andy, and pulled all six arrows from her quiver. 

" _Ohhh_ ," breathed Andy. 

Quỳnh held the arrows behind the fletching and lined up all six on her bow. She nocked the first. The crowd fell silent. Quỳnh hadn't shot like this in the qualifying rounds. A goose flew overhead, honking, causing a ripple of laughter. Quỳnh waited for it to settle before raising her bow. She drew and released; nocked again a beat later, drew and released; repeated until all six arrows quivered in the target. Six gold, in six seconds. 

Andy whooped. Joe laughed in sheer joy. He looked for Nicky to share his delight, knowing his lover would be exhilarated by Quỳnh's mastery despite the hard labour it would cost them both. He couldn't see Nicky. He frowned.

The twelfth and last contestant walked out wearing a hood. In its shadow Joe glimpsed a fall of dark, straight hair and a nose worthy of a Roman emperor.

"What the...?" said Andy. "Nicky can't go again."

"He usually can," Joe said, just to make Andy groan. "But," he tilted his head to get a better view of the archer's ass and shook his head, "that's not Nicky."

"It looks like Nicky."

Joe gave her a level stare. Did she think he couldn't recognise his beloved's ass? The archer nocked his first arrow without lowering his hood. He drew, long fingers holding the bow string taut. 

"Nicky doesn't draw like that," said Andy. 

Joe rolled his eyes at her to say _I told you so_. She shrugged an apology. The archer released. His arrow landed in the centre of the gold.

"He's good," said Joe. "Might take Quỳnh to a deciding round."

Andy side-eyed him.

The hooded archer released a second arrow. It flew straight and fast: hitting the first arrow, splitting it in half and slamming into the centre of the target. Joe gaped and swore in Ligurian, knowing that Nicky -- wherever he'd disappeared to -- would be doing the same. The crowd yelled its approval.

Andy tensed. "Motherfuck." 

"Quỳnh can't win every time."

"Not that." She turned her head to nod at a pair of armed men on the castle wall, mail under their cloaks and no livery or insignia visible, then another pair loitering near the gates. "It's a trap."

The hooded archer's third arrow landed next to the previous two, to _ooooh_ -ing from the crowd. Joe spotted more armed men lurking near an ale-seller's stall. He couldn't see Nicky anywhere. His chest tightened. "I think they've got Nicky."

"Fuck."

Joe and Andy backed into the crowd, searching for escape routes. Andy pointed. Joe followed, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of the threat. "This is more than a jealous husband or irritated orchard-mistress." He turned, searching for Nicky, surprised to find the archery contest still happening. The hooded archer had split his third arrow with his fourth. "Shit, that guy's really good. I'm glad it's not him after us."

Andy circled her hand and splayed her fingers. Joe obeyed: he peeled away from her, leaving Andy to take out the men and turning towards where he'd last seen Nicky. Joe sped up. His heartbeat thrashed in his ears. Red flashed in his peripheral vision: Quỳnh on the castle walls, dropping a man with a neat kick. She whisked off the man's cloak as he folded and wrapped it around her shoulders to conceal her brightly-dyed tunic.

"No, _please don't_ \--"

Nicky's voice, tight with tension. 

Joe's vision tunnelled. He focussed on the cry and ran, past the shooting line and towards the stables, pulling out a short dagger and wishing he were better armed. The stable door was unlocked. He shoved it open and flung himself through, jinking sideways and ducking to make himself a smaller target while his eyes adjusted from bright sunlight to darkness. 

"Joe?"

Nicky sounded surprised. Joe stood straight, Nicky's tone telling him there was no immediate danger, and blinked until his vision returned. 

Nicky was perched uncomfortably on a water trough, eyes wide and hands raised as the blonde with the fancy embroidery held a sweetmeat to his lips. A troubadour's songbook lay splayed open on the straw-covered floor. 

Joe chuckled, sheathed his dagger and strolled forward, bending to retrieve and close the songbook. "This is not how I was expecting to find you, oh apple of my eye."

Nicky glared at him. "Call this a rescue, lover mine?"

The blonde raised an eyebrow and ate the sweetmeat herself before turning to look Joe over. She took her time examining him, then gave Nicky a reproachful glance. "You could have told me you preferred dark eyes."

Joe laughed and handed the songbook to her. "I like you."

She gave him a cheeky smile. "I could like you too. How about it, sir? I can see you go for blue eyes."

"Alas," Joe said, hand on his heart, "I am held captive by one particular pair of blue eyes." He looked at Nicky. "I pray my captivity will last for eternity."

Nicky smiled a crooked smile, making Joe's breathing hitch. Joe closed the distance between them, reaching out--

The stable door slammed open.

Joe spun. Nicky leapt forwards, shielding the blonde and placing himself at Joe's side. Andy dived through the door, rolled, and jumped to her feet. Quỳnh followed, without the gymnastics. Both carried new longswords. Quỳnh held the door open for a tall figure -- the hooded archer -- and swung it shut behind him. 

"We're not the target," Quỳnh said, locking and barring the door. "He is. Where's the back exit?" 

The blonde pointed. Andy looked between her and Nicky, mouthed " _called it_ " to Joe, and strode towards the back door. "Follow me."

"I won," the archer said, pushing his hood down. "I need to collect my prize."

The blonde gasped. "Robin o'the Hood?"

The archer coloured, prettily, and looked at his feet. Joe shared an amused glance with Nicky. This was the gift-giving hooded man? What sort of myth got flustered by a little bit of hero-worship?

Andy opened the back door a crack and peered out. "This way!"

Quỳnh, Nicky and Joe followed. The archer -- Robin -- folded his arms and stayed put. "I want my prize."

"Don't you get it?" asked Andy. "You _are_ the prize. Come on!"

"I knew it was a trap. My people will get me out."

Andy flung up her hands in frustration. "Fine. Your funeral." She gestured to the others and turned away.

"Hold on," said Joe. "I've got an idea. Lovech 1187?"

Andy gave him an assessing look, tightened her lips, and nodded. Joe held out his hand to Robin. "Give me your hood."

Robin took a half step backwards, shaking his head. His eyes widened as Nicky stripped off his belt and slipped out of his tunic. "I, uh..."

The blonde sighed and explained: "He's offering to change places."

"Oh!" Robin's face lit up. "That'll drive the Sheriff wild."

"And allow you to get to safety," said Quỳnh. 

Robin shrugged, more interested in the prank than any danger. Joe huffed a laugh. He remembered being young and convinced of his own indestructibility; even immortals couldn't match that confidence.

The main door rattled as someone tried to open it. Shouts and running feet followed.

"Hurry the fuck up," said Andy. 

Robin pulled off his hood and tunic. Quỳnh grabbed his hand and dragged him away, still wriggling into Nicky's tunic. Nicky dressed in Robin's clothes -- his hood was Lincoln green, Joe realised, understanding belatedly who the crowd were supporting. Something heavy crashed into the stable door. 

The blonde held up her songbook. "We should have a half-way respectable reason for being in here. Which of you has the best voice?"

Joe deferred to Nicky, letting him take the book and choose a song. Nicky knelt on the floor, hood covering his hair and shading his face, and Joe and the blonde arranged themselves decorously on the water trough. Nicky's deep voice singing words of love sent a thrill through Joe. Their surroundings -- the stable, the smell of horses, their blonde companion, the people trying to break down the door -- fell away as Joe lost himself in that voice.

The door burst open. 

"Here he is!" shouted someone. 

Armed men surrounded Nicky. Several were limping, two had lost their swords and one had a bruise on his cheek in the shape of Andy's knuckles. Nicky sang to the end of the verse before turning his head away from Joe and looking up. His features were hidden by the deep shadow of the borrowed hood.

"Is it time for the prize presentation?" he asked, voice mild and Genoese accent barely detectable. 

Guy of Gisburne pushed his way through the men and grabbed Nicky's arm. Joe jumped to his feet, reaching for his dagger. Nicky held up a hand to stop him. He pulled out of Gisburne's grasp and stood, unhurried.

"Forgive my tardiness. I needed a moment to court my love." He passed the songbook back to the blonde, nodding his thanks. Gisburne looked between Nicky and the blonde, his brow creased in confusion, as if he were expecting to see someone else. Nicky took Joe's hand and pressed it to his lips. "An hour where I don't sing his praises is an hour wasted."

Gisburne turned his head to stare at Joe. Joe winked. Gisburne's mouth dropped open. Joe smiled, wielding his dimples without mercy. 

Gisburne swallowed and broke eye contact with a visible effort. "Bring him to the Sheriff!" 

His men closed in on Nicky. Nicky strode forward, slipping through their hands, to walk alongside Gisburne. Joe shoulder-checked a couple of men and followed. He looked at the archery target as they passed. Robin had placed his fifth arrow tight against the previous four and split it with his sixth: six arrows shot into only three spots. Joe whistled. "Nice shooting, Nicky."

Nicky looked across and did an impressed double take so minimalist Joe doubted anyone else had seen it. "A clear victory. Quỳnh can't argue with that."

Joe laughed. "Quỳnh both can and will argue with that."

Gisburne halted in front of a small man in a big chair. "I have him, my lord Sheriff."

The Sheriff stood, then stepped up onto his chair so he could look down on Nicky. "You will pay for your insolence. This is the last time Robin o'the Hood will make a dupe of me."

Nicky lifted his hands to his hood and drew it down as slowly and dramatically as he could. The crowd gasped. Joe hid his smile. Nicky inclined his head to the Sheriff. "Robin o'the Hood?" His Genoese accent was back, stronger than Joe had heard it in nearly a century. "There has been some confusion. I am Nicholas the Smith."

The Sheriff rounded on Gisburne, voice rising. "Who is this?"

"Um... it seems he is Nicholas the Smith, my lord Sheriff."

"And why have you brought me _Nicholas the Smith_? Were my orders unclear?"

Gisburne spluttered. 

Nicky spoke quietly. "My lord Sheriff, no matter how unclear your orders, the answer to your first question is clear." He paused. The Sheriff stared at him, eyes bulging and fists clenched. Nicky smiled. "He brought me here to celebrate my victory."

"Your... _victory_?" the Sheriff spat.

"In the archery contest."

"You didn't win the contest. Robin o'the Hood won the contest!"

"I won." Nicky gestured at the archery target. "The evidence is right there."

"We all saw it!" yelled someone in the crowd.

"He won!" shouted someone else. "Give him the golden arrow."

The crowd took up the shout: " _Golden arrow! Golden arrow!_ "

The Sheriff turned on them, his face purple. " _This man did not win!_ "

Joe stepped forward and spoke, his voice loud enough to carry. "Perhaps we might settle it with a wager?" Nicky gave him a fond look as the crowd quietened. "One more shot, double or nothing."

" _Double_?" screeched the Sheriff. "Do you think I'm made of golden arrows?"

"Everyone has seen what you're made of," said Nicky, already striding towards the shooting line.

"We will accept coins to the value of the golden arrow," said Joe. 

Nicky took a bow and a single arrow from an attendant. The crowd cheered as he moved into his shooting stance and breathed deeply. 

"Now hold on..." said the Sheriff. "I didn't agree--"

Nicky drew. He sighted down the arrow. Joe held his breath. Nicky released. The arrow flew straight, as true as Joe's love for Nicky and Nicky's love for Joe, hitting the second arrow Robin had fired. It slammed through the arrow into the target's centre and quivered, fringed by the ruins of two split arrows.

The crowd went wild. 

# # #

"You should have seen the Sheriff's face!" said Joe. 

"Bright red, eyes bulging, spittle flying as he screamed at Gisburne?" asked the tall man next to Robin, leaning on his staff.

Joe nodded, disappointed his storytelling thunder had been stolen. 

Robin laughed. "He looks like that a lot."

A talkative young man had found them after the contest and led them deep into Sherwood Forest, where they'd found Quỳnh and Andy: Andy tending to four new horses and Quỳnh teaching trick shots to Robin's family. A woman with a tumble of red curls kicked a ball in the air, shot it down with a delighted holler, and threw her arms around Quỳnh.

Nicky handed over his winnings to Robin, holding up the golden arrow for Quỳnh to see. "I won the contest. You know what that means?"

Quỳnh shook her head. "Robin won."

"Not so. Nicholas the Blacksmith was declared the winner... which makes you the loser. Joe, remind me of the terms of our bet."

"Losers care for the mail," Joe said, his grin wide.

"Quỳnh scored higher than Nicky," said Andy, ambling to Quỳnh's side and handing her a stolen apple.

"Still a loser," said Joe. 

"I'm not sure that's fair," said Robin. "Quỳnh would have won if I hadn't been there."

"And both Quỳnh and Nicky would have lost if Robin had stayed," said Andy. "Nicky lost in two scenarios out of three."

Nicky narrowed his eyes. "So did Quỳnh!"

"It's a draw, then," said Robin. "You need a new bet."

Nicky threw up his hands in disgust. Andy laughed. He glared at her. "Give me one of those apples! I bet I can shoot it off Joe's head."

Joe backed away. "Now, hold on, heart of my heart. Let's not do anything hasty..."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you feel like leaving a comment that would be lovely :)
> 
> I'm [bazinmousqueton](https://bazinmousqueton.tumblr.com/) on tumblr too.


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